


Whatever Makes You Worse

by hedgerowhag



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M, Sick Character, Swearing, and good ol' wrangling, featuring: sneezing as revenge, im trying to recover from watching TLJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag
Summary: “I’m sorry, was that your way of saying that I’m bothering you?” Hux pronounces with the snap of his tongue on the words.Kylo gives him a middle finger over the back of the couch.





	Whatever Makes You Worse

**Author's Note:**

> title is from 'lavender blood' by fox academy

Scratch cards lie between mugs that smell of beer, cracked brown and logos burned out by the sun. The television has been rolling the same infomercial for the third time behind the reflection of the orange Christmas lights.

Kylo has been meaning to reach for the remote for the past hour, but he keeps being distracted by the sticky feeling of his palms that are somehow warm when the rest of him is shivering. An empty cola bottle is rolling between his back and the couch, the blanket Kylo holds twisted around his torso smells like cigarettes and feet.

The air seems muggy with fuzz when Kylo tips onto his back, coughing dryly in a way that makes his chest feel drum empty. His eyelids are gummy with old sweat and his tongue doesn’t seem to fit his mouth. The Christmas lights are changing patterns, throwing firebug dances on the ceiling.

The common room’s door is thrown out, the handle meeting its usual mark indented on the wall as it bounces off. Kylo braces his feet on the opposite armrest, ignoring his phone, earbuds and empty pill packet rubbing against his spine as he burrows his toes into the cushions.

The elastic of a notebook snaps and the plastic covers scratch together. Shoes parade on the cola-gummed floor as words are muttered in an accent that leaves Kylo’s teeth ground to the roots.

Kylo wraps the sweat sticky blanket around his fists. His swollen throat clicks as he tries to avoid swallowing, but it becomes impossible when he chokes on the need to scream at Hux to shut the fuck up.

A chair scrapes and the papers slap across the kitchen table. A mug clacks on the plywood surface. The cord of the Christmas lights is snagged and the LEDs rattle.

A matted off-white pillow is lobbed, cracking on Hux’s nose and spilling lukewarm coffee across his sweater.

He stares down at the rolling drops of coffee dripping into his lap, still holding the mug tipped down as the pillow flops onto the floor. Hux licks his lips and stamps the mug onto the table. He looks across at Kylo, crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry, was that your way of saying that I’m bothering you?” Hux pronounces with the snap of his tongue on the words.

Kylo gives him a middle finger over the back of the couch and tips back onto the armrest that digs into his neck.

The chair shrieks from the table and the over-polished steps are crowding on Kylo who is twisted out of a doze by fingers wrenching his ear. His eyes snap open, round, and his fist hauls back to crack Hux’s jaw – but he finds himself too slow as Hux has already stepped back.

“Don’t throw your shit at me, you pissbaby!” Hux is red in the face as he grabs for the blanket bundling Kylo, partially choking him as the fleece twists.

Kylo dislodges Hux by cracking his head on the jut of his chin. Hux jerks back, jaw clenched like he is afraid his teeth will crumble out. His face is fresh-bruise red and his eyes seem as though they are about to spill tears – but that’s just how they are: two glassy betrayers that tell when he hasn’t gotten his way.

Kylo grabs Hux by the collar and hem of his coffee soaked sweatshirt and hauls him over the back of the couch. Blood is ringing out in Kylo’s ears and snot is already on his lip, but he is keeping his fists tight in Hux’s sweatshirt as he bucks and flails on top of Kylo, his feverish bony fists striking whatever they find soft enough— Until he is thrown onto the floor.

Hux’s head cracks on the boards, his shirt ridden up on his shapeless stomach and hair thrown over his face – covering his dazed eyes. Kylo sits up on the edge of the couch and puts a bare foot on Hux’s throat. Like a trigger, it causes him to convulse, but Kylo presses hard and rests his chin on his fist.

“The fuck is wrong with you!” Hux seethes and Kylo feels the words bubble out of his throat underneath his sole. Nails are cutting into his calf and yanking on his sweatpants and he presses harder until Hux’s cheeks are turning purple with flush.

“You were annoying me,” Kylo mutters and lets up for a moment to watch Hux’s red tongue heave out of his mouth like it’s climbing for air.

“Then go to your own fucking room!” hisses out the retaliation from between Hux’s teeth. “I would have thought you like it in there since it takes force to make you leave.”

“It was too warm.”

A polished shoe clips on the side of Kylo’s cheek and he grabs the ankle in a worn-out grey sock. He was meaning to twist it, press Hux’s leg toward his chest until it hurts, but he is caught mid thought by his own sneeze and his foot slips off Hux’s throat.

Too late to cover his face, Kylo catches Hux in the direct aim of the sneeze. Within a moment, he sneezes again, and again and Hux is spitting his disgust and crawling back as Kylo wipes off his mouth and nose on his wrist.

“That is filthy!” Hux howls from where he has cornered himself against the pulsing television screen, his hair caught in the static. “Have you never heard of hygiene?”

Kylo sneezes into his palm and demonstrates shaking the droplets of spit in Hux’s direction who skids away on his ass across the floor without thinking about the rings of dried beer.

“Stop spraying your germs at me,” cries Hux, “you fucking animal!” He stands, slipping, and runs past the couch to only be curbed by a fist to his stomach.

Hux blanches and swallows on air. It takes nothing for Kylo to tip him across the couch where his head knocks on the cardboard-hard armrest. Kylo feels the hard outline of Hux’s skinny ass across his lap – limp. He puts a hand on Hux’s throat, tilting his jaw with the thumb, and swipes his sickly pale tongue across a red cheek.

A strike of an open palm across Kylo’s face was expected; he didn’t think he would leave without at least a chipped tooth. He coughs. A strike on the other cheek follows. Kylo hacks up a glob of chunky spit and hangs it over Hux’s crinkled face by a string until Kylo is swatted and the drool slops onto the couch.

Hux is squirming as Kylo wipes off his mouth, but he can’t get away while there is a hand on his throat. His feet squeak on the duct tape patched faux leather as he struggles with unattractive grunts. Kylo shuts them off by licking across Hux’s mouth and biting on his pinched bottom lip.

A knee to the back of Kylo’s skull rears him up and he is pinned to the headrest of the couch by the snarl of Hux’s teeth. Seated over Kylo’s open thighs, he is like a king with red spit speckle cheeks that Kylo leans in to lick again.

 

 


End file.
